


G is for Guilty

by scarletmanuka



Series: V/V Alphabet Challenge [7]
Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 14:32:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7644664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletmanuka/pseuds/scarletmanuka





	G is for Guilty

Sam lay in the bed, eyes wide open as sleep failed to come. There was a comforting warmth at his back, and the soft sounds of someone slumbering peacefully. An arm was wrapped around his waist and he fought between the equal desires to throw it off and run away into the night, or turn into it and stay wrapped in its embrace forever.

He felt sick to his stomach. He had never planned to do this. He hadn’t gotten up this morning and looked at his calendar and read:

0700 - Breakfast

1000 - Paperwork

1200 - Lunch

1400 - Fight crime

2200 - Cheat on wife

He loved Sybil more than he thought was possible. He had never imagined that he would be this happy. He thought that the job, or the drink would be all there was to his life, but somehow life had given him Sybil. Kind, gentle, dependable, trusting Sybil. The woman who had almost died giving birth to their son. The woman who had signed over all her riches to him without a second thought, because he was (supposedly) a man whom she could trust. A loving husband who would never betray her. 

And yet here he was, in bed with someone else. Someone who Sybil considered to be a friend. Someone that she also trusted. Gods, she had been betrayed by both of them.

Should he tell her?  _ Could _ he tell her? Would telling her be the right thing to do? The right thing to do was never fucking someone else in the first place, but it was done now. The writing was on the wall, and the evidence was on the sheets (and on his stomach, and on his hand, and in his mouth). Coming clean, and confessing his sins would ease Sam’s conscious, but was it what Sybil needed to hear? If he swore to himself that he would never do it again, that it was a one time thing, a  _ mistake _ , then would it better for her if she never knew? Hide the truth to save her from seeing his betrayal every morning over the breakfast table. To keep her from doubting him every time he was working late, or was called away in the middle of the night. To prevent her dwelling on the thought of her husband’s hands on someone else. 

Gods, he didn't know what to  _ do _ . Was his guilt clouding his judgement? Could he even trust his judgement after what he had done? His stomach rolled again and he fought the urge to be sick. If only he could turn back the clock and change the past two hours, to make it never have happened. 

His heart ached at the realisation of just how much he loved Sybil. He’d always thought that people who cheated on their spouses were cowards who just didn't have the guts to admit that they no longer felt that way about their significant other. But now that he was in the situation himself, he realised how wrong he’d been. It had never been more clear to him than it was now just how deeply he loved her. Perhaps it was because this was the closest he’d ever come to losing her? Or perhaps it was because he knew just how deeply his actions would hurt her. All he knew for sure was that he loved her more than life itself. He didn’t know if he could tell her what he’d done, but he didn't know if he could live with the secret of what he’d done - all he knew was that he didn’t want to lose her.

He gently disentangled himself from the arm about his waist and slipped from the bed. He found his breeches in the dark and pulled them on, trying to be as quiet as possible. The small sounds he’d made though were enough to wake the bed’s occupant. The moonlight streaming through the window illuminated the pale face against the pillow. Blue eyes watched him as he got dressed, the expression unreadable.

Sam paused before he opened the door, and looked back towards the bed. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“As am I,” came the reply. 

Sam slipped from the Patrician’s bedroom, and made his way quietly down the hallways, his feet and his heart automatically leading him home.


End file.
